


You, your name, and all the rest

by lordhellebore



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Abuse, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 15:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12235500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordhellebore/pseuds/lordhellebore
Summary: With marriage on the table, Robb thinks about taking Theon's name. He doesn't choose the smartest moment to bring it up, however.





	You, your name, and all the rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TotemundTabu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/gifts).



> I tried to write something fluffy for you, but ahahaha well, look how that turned out xD

“You can’t be _serious_!”

Right, Robb thinks as a far too large number of heads turn to them, addressing the name issue over dinner at their favourite Italian restaurant might not have been the smartest idea he’s ever had.

“I am,” he says, much quieter than Theon was, hoping that the other guests will just go back to minding their own business. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“But why? I always thought –” Theon shakes his head, and Robb wishes he wouldn’t look so confused, so shocked. “When you asked, I thought – I don’t know, maybe that we’d both keep our own.”

Not to mention that when Robb had asked Theon to marry him, they’d had a conversation much like this one, with Theon thinking it had to be a joke. He _really_ should have known better.

“We can do that if you want to,” Robb says. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with that. “Or you could take my name. But what would be so bad about me taking yours?”

“You’re kidding, right? You don’t want to be named like my family – nobody would want that.”

“In fact,” Robb tries to joke as he puts aside his knife and fork – Theon already put down his at the beginning of this – “I think if Arya could, she’d gladly call herself Greyjoy like Asha. Your sister’s never had a more devoted fan, and rightfully so.”

Theon rolls his eyes.

“You know it’s true. We all like her, even if Mum and Dad aren’t too happy with Arya wanting to be a stuntwoman too when she grows up. I’m pretty surprised they allowed Asha to take her along on her bike.”

“They were probably hoping she’d get frightened. But Robb, this isn’t about Asha, she’s the only –”

“We all like your mother as well,” Robb says softly as he reaches over the table to take Theon’s right hand.

Theon goes very still for a few moments, then he pulls away and smiles the unhappy smile that Robb hates on him – it used to be there far too often in the past, especially after the Ramsay incident. It’s better now, but when they talk about his mother . . .

“That’s not the point, and you know it.”

Robb does know. It’s the rest of the family, most of all his father and brothers. None of the Starks approve of _them_ , not when all three of them used Theon as a punching bag far too often until he decided to finally leave and live with Asha when he was 16, and not when none of them have visited Alannys at the residence even once in all these years, as if she’d stopped being their wife and mother when she became sick.

They can usually be found drinking at the pub when they’re not behind bars; one of them is always doing time for something – theft, assault, handling stolen goods, fraud, there seems to be no petty crime one of them hasn’t committed.

Theon’s uncles are even worse.

There’s Victarion, who gruesomely murdered his wife and will spend a great many years in prison still.

There’s Aeron, who founded his own cult worshipping some weird undead kraken god from what Robb understands, and who some years ago had tried to make all his followers commit mass-suicide by drowning. He’d later argued in court that they wouldn’t have died – _what is dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger_ was the cult’s motto – but it hadn’t accomplished anything besides getting him into Broadmoor.

And then there is Euron, who’s an honest-to-god _pirate_. Who even is a pirate in the 21st century? Robb had laughed when Theon had told him first – until he’d realised that it wasn’t a joke. At least he barely ever comes home.

“What would your parents say if you were suddenly named like my miscreant family, eh? Have you thought about that?”

Rob wishes Theon would stop smiling. He gets up and rounds the table, sitting down on Theon’s side of the booth next to him.

“Listen,” Theon starts, but Robb shakes his head.

“You listen before you go on with the self-deprecation, all right? I talked to them about it, about just keeping our names and about either of us taking the other’s. Mum said she’s considered you part of the Stark family since we were children anyway, and Dad said he’d be proud if you took our name.” Watching Theon try very hard to keep his face under control, Robb makes a mental note to ask his parents to tell him in person. “But they both understand why I’d like to take yours.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because,” he says as he places one arm around Theon’s waist and the other hand on Theon’s – and he’s relieved that this time, Theon doesn’t pull away – “I’m not ashamed of loving you. You’ve belonged to us for years now, and I think it’s time I showed the world that I belong to you.”

“You’re marrying me,” Theon objects weakly, “what more is there to show?” But he can’t seem to look Robb in the eye, and he’s shaking ever so slightly under Robb’s touch. After Ramsay, just the fact that Robb wants to be with him is sometimes almost more than he can believe, even now, and Robb is an utter fool for not better thinking this through beforehand. He hopes for Theon’s sake that he won’t make such a stupid mistake again.

Theon doesn’t resist when Robb pulls him in close, his forehead coming to rest against Robb’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Robb whispers as he begins sliding his fingers through the soft hair at the base of Theon’s neck. It’s something he’s learnt from Theon’s mother, and it never fails to help him calm down. “I shouldn’t have brought it up in public. You don’t have to decide now, you can take your time. It’s not like we even have a date set.”

Theon sighs and mumurs something largely unintelligible; at the end, there’s something that sounds like “. . . ‘s okay.” 

At least this is something Robb knows how to do, he thinks as he keeps petting in slow, soothing strokes and feels Theon relax bit by bit.

“Now, will you believe me if I say I understand if you don’t want it? In the end, it doesn’t matter all that much to me, as long as we’re together. It’s your decision, I’ll be happy either way.”

There’s a short pause, then Theon nods.

“Good. Then how about we finish our food before it gets cold?”

They do, though it’s a bit awkward - Robb stays right where he is, one arm wrapped around Theon, who makes no move to shift away from his embrace. By now, Robb couldn’t care less about what any of the other patrons think.

They go home afterwards, where Theon dozes off on the couch as they watch TV, his head on Robb’s lap, with Robb petting his hair long after he falls asleep.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“I talked to your parents today.”

“About what?”

When he doesn’t answer, Robb lifts his head from Theon’s chest to look at him. He’s lying with his eyes closed, skin glowing in the light of the flickering candles on the bedside table. His cheekbones are too sharp and his jawline too harsh; it’s been four years, but he’s never gained back all the weight he lost during the thirteen months with his crazy ex-boyfriend, when he’d cut off all contact with Robb and his family.

“Did you know they always counted me in when they planned grocery shopping for the week? Or when they booked a vacation for you all – they always booked for me too, even before it was clear whether or not I’d come with.”

Robb hadn’t known, but it makes sense; ever since his mother’d got sick when they were in third grade, Theon had spent many dinners and most weekends with them, and almost all holidays.

“They didn’t stop during that year either.” 

Still, he won’t look at him, so Robb leans in and places a light kiss on Theon’s cheek. “That’s because they always hoped you’d come back.”

Now Theon does open his eyes; they’re dark and yet over-bright. “That’s what they said, today. That they always hoped I’d come back. Your mum, she kept lighting candles at the church for me every week. And they always put fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room - _my_ room . . . just in case I’d turn up one day. Because . . . because they said that’s what - what parents do when something like this happens with one of their children. I never realised . . . even after everything they - I was such an idiot!” 

Robb shakes his head and cups his cheek, which is warm and wet with tears. “No. They - _we_ should’ve been much clearer about it much earlier.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” Theon mutters. “Now I know. And - know what I think?”

“What?”

“He’d hate this, all of it. He’d hate that I’m back with you, and that we’re getting married. And that your parents -”

“Our parents,” Robb interrupts, and after a moment of hesitation, Theon nods.

“. . . _our_ parents. He’d hate that, too. But I think - ” He smirks, and Robb is glad to see the spark of mischief in his eyes even though his voice is trembling - “I think he’d hate it most if you took my name after he tried so hard to make me forget it. Every time someone calls you _Greyjoy_ or you sign your name . . . he’d hate it, and I - I’ll remember that I won. That he could’t take it. Couldn’t . . . take me. Not from you and - and not from myself either.”

Theon is right. Ramsay is a monster, and what he did - thinking of it more deeply still makes Robb want to do things that would land him in prison, and he’s lucky that that’s where _Ramsay_ is, or else he couldn’t be certain that he wouldn’t try do do it after all. But Theon - he’d spent five months as an in-patient after he’d managed to get away, and even now he’s going to therapy once a week. It’s not over, not by a long shot, and there are still too many days when all that seems to keep Theon going is pure spite, the determination to win out over Ramsay’s memory not for himself, but simply because Ramsay would hate it. Robb hopes that one day that’ll change, but for now, if Robb’s last name being Greyjoy helps with that, it’s one more good reason to do it. 

“It would mean he well and truly lost for all the world to see,” he agrees. Still, he’s got to ask. “Are you sure?”

“I am,” Theon says, and Robb knows him well enough to realise that he means it - especially when Theon reaches up with his left hand to mirror Robb’s hand on his cheek. He usually doesn’t like for anyone to touch it, but now he holds still as Robb turns his head to press kisses to the stumps of the two missing fingers and the scarred palm.

“Robb?”

“Yes?”

“I want to set a date.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Mum, it’s Theon.”

Alannys doesn’t react; she’s slumped in her armchair, her head sunk down on her chest, eyes half closed. Specks of dust are dancing in the sunlight that falls through the large window and makes the wetness on her chin glitter.

“Mum.” Theon kneels on the rug at her feet - sometimes he’ll sit there and she’ll pet his hair like Robb did at the restaurant, though it’s mostly when he visits her alone. She draws a shaky breath as he touches her cheek, and after a while, she blinks and turns her head, her eyes focusing on Theon.

“It’s me, Theon.” He smiles the soft smile that’s reserved for her - and on a few rare occasions for Robb - and because they’re lucky and it seems to be a good day, she returns it. “I came to tell you some good news,” he says as he gently wipes her chin with the soft kerchief tied around her neck. “Let’s go sit on the couch, all right?”

She complies when he helps her to her feet and leads her to the couch. Robb has stayed in the background until now, but when they’re seated, he sits down next to her.

“Alannys, it’s Robb.” He doesn’t get the same greeting as Theon, but she doesn’t pull away when her takes her hand into his.

“We wanted to tell you something,” Theon says. “Remember how I told you that we were engaged, Robb and I? Well - we’ve set a date for the wedding. It’s going to be in two months.”

In truth, they can’t know whether or not she remembers anything - or if she understands what they’re saying. Sometimes it seems that she does, and she’ll smile and nod in all the right places; on other days she won’t react at all. Today, she smiles and leans her head against Theon’s shoulder with a sigh that, to Robb, sounds content. 

“We talked about names,” Theon goes on. “And in the end, we decided that Robb would like to take ours. He’ll be Robb Greyjoy - it sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“I think it does,” Robb agrees. “And I’m very much looking forward to it. I want everyone to know how proud I am to be married to Theon. To be part of your family.”

Alannys never turns to look at him – she only ever does it for Theon, and sometimes Asha – and after some moments, her eyes flutter closed. But then, slowly, lightly, her fingers close around his. It’s never happened before, and there is a lump in Robb’s throat, his eyes burning. He’d suspected before that she recognises him – he’s come to visit her with Theon since they were both children – but now he’s sure she approves of them being a couple, too. If he ever had any doubts about the whole name business before, now they’re gone once and for all.

Robb Greyjoy. That’s who he’ll be in two months.

He can’t wait.


End file.
